


The Things We Become

by palpablenotion



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drinking to Cope, Post-Season/Series 05, alternate season/series 05 finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-29
Updated: 2010-12-29
Packaged: 2018-10-18 20:40:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10624740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/palpablenotion/pseuds/palpablenotion
Summary: Dean doesn't seem to wonder about anything anymore and sometimes, sometimes it gets so quiet between them that Castiel can actually hear the rush of his own blood, the steady pounding of his pulse in his ears. He knows that it's a sign that he's alive, and he feels it now, in the silence of a cheap motel room like he feels it when adrenaline rushes through him on a hunt. But in these moments, he feels more alone than he's ever felt before.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is an import from livejournal so I decided to keep the formatting.
> 
>  **Title:** The Things We Become  
>  **Author:** [](http://destial.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://destial.livejournal.com/)**destial**  
>  **Recipient:** [](http://pyrebi.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://pyrebi.livejournal.com/)**pyrebi**  
>  **Pairing:** pre Dean/Cas, one sided  
>  **Rating:** PG-13  
>  **Warnings:** Angst, alternate end to 5x22  
>  **Spoilers:** through season 5  
>  **Word Count:** 1120  
>  **Notes/Prompt(s):** Alternate end to 5x22, which results in very different actions of Dean's. I used the prompt "It gets so quiet between you two that you can hear the rush of your own blood, the steady pounding of your pulse in your ears. It makes you feel alive, sure, but oh god does it make you feel alone." Um, it's angsty, but I don't think it's over the top.  
>  **Summary:** _Dean doesn't seem to wonder about anything anymore and sometimes, sometimes it gets so quiet between them that Castiel can actually hear the rush of his own blood, the steady pounding of his pulse in his ears. He knows that it's a sign that he's alive, and he feels it now, in the silence of a cheap motel room like he feels it when adrenaline rushes through him on a hunt. But in these moments, he feels more alone than he's ever felt before._

 

**The Things We Become**

 

Walking into the actual final battle – it really doesn't matter who wins, Michael or Lucifer, there won't be anything left to fight for afterwards – as a human is the second most terrifying thing Castiel has ever done. The first, of course, was following Dean Winchester, a being that has existed for barely a moment in the continuity of eternity, over his own superiors, angels he has followed for millennia.

Watching Dean being beaten so severely, watching Bobby fall because he could not bear to watch his surrogate sons in such a position, had been the hardest thing Castiel had ever done. He wanted desperately to do something, to make some sort of a difference. He would have fallen too, but they all would be dead by the end anyway.

And then Sam Winchester had done the impossible and subjugated the devil and the world had not ended.

* * *

"There's a werewolf in Toledo," Cas says, tapping at the paneling of Dean's laptop.

He doesn't have his own and it's very important that he not use Sam's. Six months on the road, just the two of them, and Dean is still peculiar about certain things concerning Sam. His name, for instance, must be avoided in general conversation unless everyone involved is dangerously intoxicated. His clothes, on the other hand, may be used if possible.

Cas has stopped trying to figure out where the boundaries lay at this point and just takes the licks when they come.

So when they look for hunts, he uses Dean's laptop. Since the day when the world didn't end, this is what they've been doing. Continuing the family business, as Dean said, even though everyone Dean had ever considered family is dead and everyone Cas had, is the enemy.

"That's the third one in as many months," Dean mutters. "What the hell's going on with these things?"

"World's gone crazy," someone had told him once, during a time when his memory was absolute. It isn't anymore and all he can remember are the words. Cas thinks about repeating it now but Dean won't appreciate the dry humor they'd originally been spoken in. Cas wouldn't be able to replicate it anyway.

"We could go and investigate," he suggests.

"Won't make it before the final night of the cycle," Dean counters, still not looking up from the gun he's cleaning. He's always cleaning the guns, or mending a shirt, or going through newspapers with a felt pen. Castiel isn't fully sure what's missing, because he knows Dean is able to survive without Sam. Dean is able to laugh and do morally ambiguous things while on his own – while with Cas, in fact. But he doesn't, because Sam is in hell and Dean just wants to be. "Bookmark that, or write it down. We'll find something we can actually deal with before next month."

Castiel doesn't respond and Dean probably doesn't notice.

* * *

Being a human is infinitely different from being an angel. When God made them, he made them at opposite ends of the spectrum. As an angel, Castiel was hard and near unchanging, but as a man, he is so very soft and malleable. And that says nothing about the way he feels now. He had thought he knew what it meant to feel things like shame and anger, but what he felt before was nothing compared to what his human self is capable of.

He still doesn't know if he's able to be as happy, as joyous, as he could be as an angel because it hasn't come up yet.

The world _looks_ different, too. Bigger, because it takes time to travel from one place to the next, but he's also never thought less of it. Self centeredness is apparently a natural state of mind for the standard human being. He no longer concerns himself with the thoughts and feelings of other men he comes across unless he forces himself to.

Dean's the exception, but isn't he always?

Castiel doesn't know if Dean, likewise, wonders about his thoughts and feelings. Dean doesn't seem to wonder about anything anymore and sometimes, sometimes it gets so quiet between them that Castiel can actually hear the rush of his own blood, the steady pounding of his pulse in his ears. He knows that it's a sign that he's alive, and he feels it now in the silence of a cheap motel room like he feels it when adrenaline rushes through him on a hunt. But in these moments, he feels more alone than he's ever felt before. His brothers have been silent for a long time but never, not once, had he ever thought Dean would be too.

The pain that causes him isn't new but the psychical hurt, the deep ache in his chest that accompanies it is.

* * *

"Sorry, 'm sorry, Cas," Dean slurs.

He's drunk, which is less common than Cas had initially expected him to be. Usually he skips straight to the passing out stage. The few times he's actually been conscious and drunk, he's gotten extremely maudlin. Like now.

"It's alright."

It probably isn't, but Castiel honestly doesn't know what Dean is talking about and doesn't want him to explain it.

"No it's not, Cas." Dean pulls himself up and grabs at Cas' sleeve, pulls him close enough to smell the whiskey taint on his breath. Cas would like to be drunk too, but they've done that before and it's not a safe combination. "If it wasn't for me, you'd be up there still. I dragged you into this and now look at you."

"It's alright, Dean," Castiel says, voice soft. It isn't, nothing is alright anymore and Cas doesn't know how to fix it because he doesn't know what's wrong. "I don't blame you."

That much is true, but Dean will never believe it.

"Dragged Sam back too," he drawls, morosely. It's just self pity at this point. He probably isn't even paying attention to Castiel anymore. Except suddenly his eyes are on the former angel and his hands are gripping Cas' forearms. "Can you forgive me, Cas? Sammy said he did."

"I've already forgiven you," he says immediately, pushing Dean towards his bed, wondering if he'd go down easy or if he'd need to finish the bottle he'd been working on. "Nothing left to forgive, Dean."

He doesn't look comforted, but he stops begging forgiveness and rolls over on his bed, turning his back to Castiel.

Cas sits on the edge of his mattress for a moment, considering the hunter. Nights are always hard – if Dean doesn't drink himself into oblivion, then he trembles in his sleep, or tosses and turns, or, on some occasions, wakes Castiel up with his cries – but in the morning, Dean won't have his walls up nearly as high and Castiel will be allowed to take care of him. It's the closest he comes to what they once had.

For now, it's close enough.


End file.
